From the Ashes of Victory: The Complete Series, page 117
part #0 of From the Ashes of Victory Series
But recognition returned to Vita's eyes and they flew open wide. "Katya!"
Having never experienced it before, Katya was almost toppled over by how strongly Vita threw herself at her, wrapping her up in an embrace that was so warm and sincere Katya was shocked into inaction, and it took a moment before she could return it.
"What is it?" Katya asked the top of Vita's head. "What's happened?"
Looking over at Sveta in desperate need for explanation, her eyes were solid gold, but they too were swelling with emotion. Nastya and Pretoria looked on in utter confusion.
When Vita finally pulled away, the look on her face was so alien Katya couldn't place it at first. Then Vita smiled, broad and bright, before bursting into helpless, uncontrollable laughter.
It made Katya think of a hyena in the throes of passion with a goose; an awkward, yet endearingly charming sound, so unfamiliar to even the one making it that she couldn't figure out when to breathe properly, and her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to help.
The other hand held a folded letter that had been hastily jammed into its envelope only halfway before its owner had fallen through the floor.
Handing Vita off to Sveta, Katya took the letter, seeing that it was from one Dr. Levi Samuels.
"Didn't we meet him in London?" Katya asked.
But Vita didn't respond. Couldn't, as she looked as though she'd lost control of her body. The fact that one could laugh hard enough to cry had clearly taken her by complete surprise. She kept dabbing at her cheeks and wondering at the wetness that came away, only to fall into another fit of disbelieving laughter.
At least she was breathing.
Katya unfolded the letter and began to read, with moderate confidence Vita would still be standing when she finished, as Sveta looked on the verge of collapsing herself.
Katya forced herself to read faster.
"What is it?" Pretoria asked, taking only a few halting steps closer, as if afraid of the bizarre sounds coming out of Vita's mouth.
When Katya finished, Vita was spared further embarrassment by having her face mashed into Katya's collarbone. Dropping the letter, she held Vita tightly, swaying in a joy she had never felt the like of in her life.
Then Millie barged in through the door with the rest of EVE hot on her heels to find Katya and Sveta crying as hard as Vita was.
By the time Katya managed to get her euphoria under control, the entirety of EVE was there, looking between the three crying witches and the two confused ones and trying to come to a conclusion about what it meant.
As Vita was practically convulsing in sobs of joy, Katya took it upon herself to explain why to the wall of expectant and increasingly-alarmed eyes.
Putting on as regal a face as she could manage with her eyes swollen shut, a stuffy nose and Vita clawing at her arm for support to keep from falling over, Katya pulled herself up to her full height and placed a reassuring hand on top of Vita's.
"Ladies of EVE, it is my great pleasure to introduce to you the next Doctor Ravenwood."
A CHRISTMAS IN PARIS
1919
For the first time in Millie's life, everything she'd ever known was behind her. Her home, her friends, her native language. Ahead everything was unfamiliar, shrouded in fog; beyond that an uncertain horizon.
Typical of the Channel in December.
It was too cold for any other passengers to be out on the deck of the ferry, but she had been born and raised on the coast of the North Sea— there was nothing a temperate puddle like the English Channel could summon up that would faze her. Beads of condensation dotted her dark green coat like baubles on a Christmas tree, her mane of copper hair a slightly melted star running down her shoulders from the top. Her hat was crushed up in her pocket, since she'd only brought the one and if the wind took it away thirty minutes into the trip, the likelihood of her spending the rest of it cross was too high to risk keeping it somewhere so vulnerable as her head. This journey was too important to spend it anything but blissfully happy.
Next week would mark one year since Millie told Elise that she loved her. So perhaps not a true 'anniversary' in the traditional sense, but for the two of them it was going to be the closest they would get, no matter how long they lived. But now wasn't a time for recriminations or bitterness towards what would never be or why. They were going to celebrate what they had, not mourn what they didn't.
And to do it properly, Millie was leaving home. The entirety of Britain was at her back, and had the weather been more cooperative, she would have been able to see France ahead.
Luckily for her, there was a piece of France right beside her already.
"I do not want you to spend our trip sick, my Millie. Come back inside," Elise said. She was bundled up completely, only her sky-blue eyes visible in a little strip between the fur-lined hood and the scarf she wore piled up to her nose. In lighter colours than Millie favoured, her coat was of a match to the mist around them, the scarf a brilliant scarlet to suit the season.
"Aren't you the healing witch?" Millie teased.
"You will not learn if I simply fix you when you do not listen," Elise said. "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."
Millie smiled and stuffed her hands in her pockets. "You've been in Britain too long if you're trotting out chestnuts like that."
Together, they shuffled along the wet, rolling deck and made their way back into the main compartment. The warmth and smell of burning kerosene was overwhelming after being outside for more than a few minutes. Still, she took the complimentary tea with thanks.
Elise held hers in both hands, letting the steam wash over a nose gone slightly pink. "I must learn more than anatomy for school. Should I not practice idioms with you, as well?"
"Oh, you should. Those are much harder than bladders and spleens."
What was hardest of all was knowing that Elise was going to be so busy for the next eight years. Vickie getting into school had been such a shock, but at the same time triumphant. She had struck a major blow to the status quo by being admitted into a doctoral program for physics, to the point the occasion was being heralded in national magazines, while Elise becoming a medical doctor felt more like a natural progression. There were already many female medical doctors, so it was Millie who would have to do the adjusting. School wouldn't start until the autumn, but she was already dreading it. Geographically, it was just down the street, so close Elise would be able to come home every night.
But they both knew her mind would be elsewhere.
Even though no-one was prouder or more supportive than Millie, it still made her want to enjoy this trip all the more. Who knew what shape Elise would be in next Christmas.
Or Millie, for that matter. Since Pretoria's arrival at EVE, there hadn't been any more reports of incidents like hers, but the next time one came in, Millie would be right there alongside Niamh when she was dispatched to take care of it.
Outside, the fog thickened, and Millie shuffled over to stand a little closer to Elise. If she was only going to be able to see a foot in front of her face, she was going to make sure the most important thing in her world stayed within arm's reach.
Vickie and Yekaterina may have been fine with using magic publicly, but it still made Millie nervy. She'd been out on the airfield at the Flying Circus disaster, and had had her photo in newspapers along with the others, but she had no desire to call attention to herself unnecessarily.
But the moment they stepped off the train in Paris, she was tempted to fling a witchscale lasso around Elise as the crowds that stuffed the Gare du Nord closed in around them. She was a country girl from the east! How did she know how to weave through crowds like that?
Only Millie's height and Elise's nearly-white platinum blond hair acting as a glowing, bobbing beacon kept them from being separated in the first five minutes. Millie had almost bashed her head on the doorway to the carriage, and being able to look out over the top of a sea of people had lost its novelty when she realised it made her just as visible.
Outside wasn't much better, but at least long, lanky limbs and bright red hair made it impossible for the taxi drivers to miss her when she hailed them.
When they arrived at the hotel, the Scottish witch understood for certain just how far from home she found herself. Every single thing with writing on it took forever to sound out (when she could, there were a lot of extra letters that got in the way), and when she finally managed, she had to struggle for translations that wouldn't come fast enough for how many were being thrown at her at once.
That made sense, at least; she was in France, they spoke French. She didn't need Vickie to do the maths on that equation.
It was the decor.
Though it was Elise who had grown up on a farm, stepping into the hotel's lobby made Millie feel a bumpkin who'd just fallen off a potato cart and tumbled into some kind of palace. The carpets felt as thick as grass and there was honest-to-God art on the walls, like they were going to be staying in some kind of museum overflow (every frame was gilt). She was half-surprised the other guests didn't have champagne flutes in their hands, since they certainly weren't busy with their luggage.
Millie only let hers go to the porter with reluctance. She understood (in principle) it was the man's job, but couldn't help but give him a once-over before finally surrendering to Elise's look of reassurance.
What was happening? Maybe she'd spent too much time training with Niamh recently. She'd been working security for less than a year, surely her instincts weren't that over-sharpened already?
If she was thinking like that, she was going to need a drink. She looked around for champagne again, but none appeared.
Everything Millie had read about Paris made it seem like the most romantic, beautiful city in the world (hearing about it firsthand from Vickie told a different tale). Strolling through it a few days before Christmas with the woman she loved, she could confirm that those accounts were absolutely true. The fairy lights certainly helped, and there were carollers about for God's sake! Father Christmas certainly got around, as she saw more than one, and if the mulled wine she'd just had been served at Communion, there would be fewer lapsed Catholics in the world.
They didn't so much walk as waft, drifting through the city and the season alike. The last five Christmases hadn't been particularly jolly. The last three, which had spent at ADAM, even less so. Witches didn't get on much with celebrating the holidays of those who had largely been behind the persecution, torture and execution of so many of their sisters.
But the dark cloud that had sat astride the world since the start of the war had lifted, and the atmosphere made it feel as though everyone needed a reason to celebrate, and were bound and determined to make up for lost time. The whole city was somehow extra Christmas-y, and Millie found herself getting caught up in it.
Her French was still rubbish, but some things were universal. Smiling, gaiety, singing, laughing children and a reaffirmed appreciation for life bubbled through the crowds like a froth of pent-up joy.
Millie sympathised with Ivy and the others, but she was also madly in love. The war was over, and so was the mourning period. So much had happened in the last year that Millie was thankful for, she didn't know how she was going to be able to express it without running around like a madwoman, shouting it in the face of every passerby (in English and French).
Somehow, she restrained herself. Though not completely.
"You are humming," Elise said. "I do not remember you humming before."
"'Tis the season, aye?" Millie replied.
It was hard to pass through so much concentrated positivity as individuals and not a couple. Millie wanted nothing more than to take Elise's hand and find some random doorway hung with mistletoe, but even here, in the most romantic city in the world, there were still taboos.
It was getting better, though. She'd seen more than one poster for a revue or other live performance that left no question as to what was on offer, and ‘traditional family fare' was most certainly not it. The burlesque houses, the postcards with naked women on them— it seemed like there was more than just a need to celebrate ‘normal' life percolating beneath the surface of the City of Lights.
And in Millie, too.
A breakfast of pastries, cheese, fruit and the strongest coffee Millie had ever had gave her the energy to not so much greet her first morning in Paris as chase it down and jump on it until it surrendered to a good time. They'd paid for two beds but only used one (for its intended purpose, which helped prevent any travel fatigue), and bolted for the biggest tourist traps first. It was their first holiday together, what else could they do? Elise's trip to Versailles and the Council in the spring hadn't exactly allowed for sightseeing, and Millie couldn't stop herself from gawking at everything like a first-time tourist.
Well, she was a first-time tourist, she'd more than earned a gawk or two.
The first stop was, of course, the Eiffel Tower. It was the tallest man-made object in the world, and from the Champ de Mars it looked every inch of it.
"That's actually there, right? I'm not imagining it?" Millie asked as she craned her neck to get a look at the top again. The Shed was massive, but in a stocky, building-y kind of way. The Tower was just a spindly latticework, how was it still standing? How had they built the thing, especially thirty years ago? It was older than she was!
"Only if I also am sharing your dream," Elise replied. "It is so much bigger up close."
This early in the morning, its shadow speared well out to the west, seeming like it could reach all the way to Longstown. But the longer Millie stared, the more she felt like she was going to fall over backwards. She wasn't used to having to look up at very much. A wave of vertigo washed over her and she tore her eyes away to stare at the brilliant green grass at her feet instead.
"Millie, are you all right?"
The answering nod was game, but not entirely truthful. "I just imagined the view from the top. I don't recommend it." Just mentioning it forced her to sit down, giving her breakfast a fighting chance of staying where it belonged.
Elise settled beside her, and with a surreptitious infusion of healing magic, Millie quickly found herself feeling much better. The grass was still damp and the air had yet to be warmed over, but it was quiet, with few others out and about on the Champ de Mars. In their own little world, the warmth of Elise's breath broke over Millie's ear in a low whisper, but before she could reply, they heard the sound of a camera shutter triggering behind them. They turned together to see a man with an enormous smile on his face and a contract in his hand. "Mademoiselles, a memory for you!"
"Does he want us to buy the picture we didn't know he was taking?"
Elise confirmed that this was the case, and Millie smiled at him. It wasn't the first time she'd wanted to bludgeon a camera to death, but she had to admire such entrepreneurial audacity. They agreed to buy two at a discount if he took another that actually had their faces in.
It was only when the prints were delivered to the hotel later that they realised they need never have bothered. He'd caught the exact instant Elise had parted her lips to whisper into Millie's ear, capturing perfectly a private moment of public intimacy, made all the more personal for not being able to see their faces.
They knew who was in the photograph, even if no-one else would. That the whisper could also very easily be seen as prelude to a kiss made it all they could have wanted in a keepsake: an open secret for them to know, and the rest of the world to guess.
"That's it?"
"Yes. Is it not wonderful?" Elise said, leaning over a railing to get a better look at what was hanging on the wall just on the other side.
Millie wasn't exactly a connoisseur, so the only reason she'd even heard of the Mona Lisa was because it had been stolen a few years before the war. The hunt for it had made national headlines in Britain, and not even adolescent Millie could avoid hearing the news when it was returned safe and sound. Ironically, being missing had made it arguably the most famous painting in the world. But that only made it more underwhelming.
"It's… well, it's a might wee, isn't it?"
The river of humanity oozing through the Louvre at the speed of 'Paris at Christmas' was unstoppable however, and they were forced to move on after less than a minute. "The size does not matter! A masterpiece is a masterpiece. I am very happy we got to see it at all," Elise said amidst a hundred other conversations exactly like theirs murmuring into life around them.
"As long as you're happy," Millie said, and genuinely meant, but Elise looked up with quizzical eyes.
"I can come alone next time if you are so uninterested."
"What? That's not what I meant! I'm honestly glad you got to see it. I just don't understand the fuss. We waited two hours to see a postcard with a bored woman painted on," Millie said as the crowd flowed back into the rest of the museum, which seemed as spacious as The Shed after being funnelled through the narrow side alley the Mona Lisa had been stuffed away in.
"She is not bored! Do you not know the 'enigmatic smile'?"
"Rubbish." Millie leaned down until her lips brushed Elise's hair. "I'll give you an 'enigmatic smile' when you climb into bed tonight. Will you wait a few hours for that?"
Even though they were still nestled deep in the belly of the museum's warmth, Elise's cheeks flooded a rosy pink, and her smile thwarted her best attempts at holding it back.
"See? You should mean it when you smile."
"As long as I have you, I will never stop."
This time it was Millie's turn to flush, except thanks to her Scottish complexion she looked more like a ripening apple than a besotted angel. Or perhaps it was only appropriate for the Red Devil to live up to her nickname in more than her hair colour.
